


Yes Sir

by Lassenby



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Brief Vomiting, Gunplay, M/M, Masochism, Rape Roleplay, Tons of Porn, cigarette ashing, fluff at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassenby/pseuds/Lassenby
Summary: Carlton is a masochist. Some men are able to give him exactly what he wants. Other men get on his nerves and eat all his hot pockets without asking.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Ewan O'Hara, Carlton Lassiter/Lars Ewing, Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	Yes Sir

His therapist called it sadomasochism.

The quack also speculated that the illusion of powerlessness helped Carlton relieve his guilt, to close the cognitive gap between his Irish Catholic upbringing and his new habit of having no-strings attatched sex with men.

His therapist went on to posit that disgust and arousal were often two signs of the same coin. Carlton’s desire to be respected by the public might have created a flip side in which he longed to be humiliated and disrespected in private.

What a load of bullshit.

Carlton didn’t know the reason for his preferences and he didn’t care. It only mattered that he could occasionally meet a guy who would give him exactly what he needed.

It didn’t happen often. He had scared off more than a few potential partners- male and female- by bringing up his kink. But sometimes it worked out.

One of those times was with FBI agent Lars Ewing.

The instant Carlton laid eyes on the agent, he wanted him so bad it was suffocating. He couldn’t think straight. His clothes felt too tight. It was all he could do to not fall to his knees right there and start licking the man’s shiny, Washington black shoes.

Carlton was surprised when Lars took him up on his offer of a drink at his apartment. He was more surprised by the things Lars agreed to afterward.

Which led to Carlton on his hands and knees with Agent Ewing’s heels digging into his back. Lars reclined on Carlton’s sofa, a lit cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other, idly checking his emails. He crossed his ankles, digging one heel deeper into his human footrest.

Lars was still fully dressed in his suit. Carlton had only shed his jacket, and his cock strained painfully against the crotch of his well-pressed slacks. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on before.

After checking his emails, Lars slipped his phone back into his jacket. Even after his feet were gone, Carlton could feel the painful spots where they had rested on his against his back.

“How about you suck me off?” Lars’s voice was casual, as if he didn’t really care one way or the other.

“Yessir,” Carlton said.

His face was flushed. He felt lightheaded as he knelt between the agent’s legs.

Lars unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, releasing his half hard cock from its confines. He took a long drag off his cigarette and blew the smoke out in Carlton’s face.

It stung Carlton’s eyes and made him cough.

Lars smirked. “Get to it, Detective.”

Still blinking tears out of his eyes, Carlton gave the agent’s cock a few pumps with his fist and wrapped his lips around the tip. He didn’t waste long with teasing. Carlton was no bratty sub. His duty was to serve, and he got right to business, swallowing Lars’s cock down to the hilt.

His gag reflex triggered and his throat cramped up, mouth filling with thick, hot drool. A shudder went all through him. Carlton had always had a terrible gag reflex, but somehow he managed to fight it down. He pulled all the way off Lars’s cock, leaving it shiny and slick with spit.

Before he could draw a full shuddering breath, Lars’s hand tangled in his short crop of graying hair and forced him back down.

Carlton made a muffled grunt against the agent’s lap. Lars’s cock was average size but it felt unbearably thick as it filled up Carlton’s mouth and throat. The shaft twitched lewdly against his tongue.

Carlton’s throat spasmed. His stomach churned, but he defeated his gag reflex again. No way was Carlton going to puke in an FBI agent’s lap. He would rather be the flower girl in Shawn Spencer’s wedding.

Lars released him. The cock slid out of his throat and Carlton sat bolt upright, gasping for air.

The agent took another drag off his cigarette as he studied Carlton’s lust-darkened eyes, flushed face, fucked up hair, and wet, slightly parted lips.

“You disgust me,” Lars said. “A man like you could never get me off.”

His words tied a knot in Carlton’s stomach, but at the same time made his cock twitch.

Lars settled back with one arm slung over the back of the couch, his other hand jerking himself off.

Carlton could only watch dumbly as Lars approached orgasm, clothed thighs flexing. The agent’s breathing became shallow and quick as his pumping picked up speed.

Suddenly Lars grabbed Carlton’s hair again, gripping tight enough to hurt. His hips jerked. His cock twitched and spurted, ropes of cum landing across Carlton’s face.

Carlton couldn’t recoil if he wanted to. Lars held him tight as he milked his cock to empty.

“Open your mouth,” Lars said.

Carlton obeyed without complaint.

Lars raised his cigarette--now just a smoldering stub--over Carlton’s upturned face and tapped the ashes into his mouth.

Carlton’s stomach rolled at the acrid taste and sensation of ash tumbling into the back of his badly used throat. He forced himself to keep his mouth slack, following agent Ewing’s order even as his body rebelled.

Lars rewarded this loyalty by stubbing out the cigarette on Carlton’s tongue.

This time Carlton couldn’t help but recoil. He expected pain- there was surprisingly little. Still, this final intrusion pushed his overtaxed gag reflex over the edge.

Carlton barely managed to turn away before his stomach seized into a hard, hot stone and he puked.

It seemed to go on for ages. Afterward Carlton was left shivering and spitting, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blinking tears out of his eyes, he saw the ruined patch of his carpet. 

Fuck. He wasn’t getting that deposit back.

When he managed to compose himself enough to look around, agent Ewing was standing near the door. He pulled something out of his jacket and set it on the table.

“I’m not a prostitute,” Carlton said, his voice gravelly. “You don’t have to leave money on the nightstand.”

Lars scoffed. “It’s a dry cleaning ticket. You don’t mind picking up my shirts in the morning, do you?”

Carlton was too shocked to speak.

“I didn’t think so.” He glanced back at Carlton before closing the front door behind himself. “Goodnight, Detective.”

It was the way he said ‘detective’ that stung the worst. As if it were a joke. As if Carlton Lassiter weren’t worth the title of head detective.

Just like that, Carlton’s desire to lick the man’s boots was gone.

And then there was special agent Ewan O’Hara.

That was a new low. Juliet was Carlton’s partner. There was a bond of trust there, trust he was breaking by sleeping with her brother. Carlton had tried to resist, but Ewan was so handsome and charismatic and could probably kill a man with one pinky, Carlton was utterly under his spell.

When Ewan showed up that night on his doorstep with a twelve pack of Corona, Carlton let him into his apartment without a second thought.

After a few beers, Carlton told Ewan exactly what he wanted from him.

No doubt his therapist would have a field day if Carlton had been inclined to discuss the specifics of that night. He would theorize that Carlton was feeling extra guilty for betraying his partner’s trust and that, with his self-esteem at an all time low, he needed something stronger than his usual cocktail of degradation and subservience. 

Maybe that was true. All Carlton knew for sure was that it felt damn good to be shoved down into the couch cushions by Ewan O’Hara’s full weight, the man’s cock driving powerfully into Carlton’s ass and his own Glock 17 pressed against the back of his head.

They hadn’t even established a safeword. Not that Carlton had any intention of using it.

He had personally removed the chambered bullet and magazine from the Glock, though. He wasn’t stupid. Accidents could happen, and having his brains blown out all over the sofa while getting fucked by his partner’s brother was pretty much the worst way Carlton could imagine dying.

Still, it was easy enough to lose himself in the fantasy. Especially when Ewan was slamming into him with no regard for his comfort or pleasure, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck to pin him to the couch.

In other circumstances, Ewan was a nice guy. Sex seemed to bring out a different side of him. Carlton could relate.

Ewan’s cock was huge, and he’d barely spat on it before shoving it in. That also helped make the rape feel more genuine. When Carlton cried out with pain and jerked away, trying to squirm out from under Ewan’s body, it was barely an act at all.

That was when Ewan put the gun against Carlton’s head. The warning press of cold steel against his scalp made Carlton gasp. He stopped struggling.

Carlton felt like he was being torn apart every time Ewan slammed in, then pulled all the way out before the next brutal thrust. Tears streamed down Carlton’s face unbidden and this breath came in pained gasps. He pressed his face into the cushion to mute his whimpers.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Ewan growled. “Such a good little cocksleeve.”

That sent a jolt up Carlton’s spine and into his belly. He groaned.

Although it still hurt and the sensation of fullness almost unbearable, it was beginning to feel good. Each time Ewan’s thick shaft slammed back in, it hit something inside that made Carlton see sparks.

Carlton’s cock was pinned beneath him. Every thrust drove him down and forward, grinding against the cushion, but it wasn’t enough friction. Carlton didn’t dare reach underneath to jerk himself off, not with the Glock still pressed against the back of his head.

The slap of flesh became louder and faster as Ewan sped up, his thrusts becoming arrhythmic.

“I’m gonna cum,” Ewan said in a rough voice. “Is that what you want, slut? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” Carlton gasped.

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir,” Carlton practically sobbed. “Please.”

Ewan grunted and slammed into Carlton, his cock twitching deep inside the other man’s flexing hole.

Carlton didn’t think he could take any more, but the sense of fullness only increased as Ewan blew his load inside, spurt after spurt stretching him further. Carlton was lightheaded, teetering on the edge of orgasm.

There was a small sound. Someone less familiar with firearms might not recognize it, but even with no bullet in the chamber, Carlton knew the sound for what it was. Ewan had pulled the trigger.

That dry click sent Carlton over the edge. He came, his strangled moan muffled by the couch.

There would be a permanent stain on that cushion.

For the most part, Carlton was smart enough not to get involved with anyone he might see on a regular basis. Although it was becoming less and less true that he had ‘just’ gotten out of a marriage, those difficult times were hard to put in the rearview.

Better to have flings, then, with no messy emotional attachments. Carlton liked it that way. It worked.

At least, it worked until Carlton fell in love with Shawn freaking Spencer.

“This is a terrible mistake,” Carlton said.

“What is?” Shawn barely glanced up from his phone.

“This. Us.” Carlton gestured. “Us doing this.”

What they were doing was cuddling on the couch and half watching Grease for the hundredth time. Shawn was curled against Carlton’s side, snuggled under a blanket and playing Candy Crush on his phone. Carlton sat with his arm wrapped around Shawn, simultaneously neck deep in both love and regret.

“This is insane. We can’t keep this up,” Carlton said.

Shawn didn’t seem worried. That was understandable, since Carlton got like this approximately once a week.

“Don’t be like that, babe,” Shawn said. “We have a good thing going. Like, think of all the perks. I get to stay over at your sweetass apartment, which is _so_ much nicer than mine.” Shawn counted off the points on his fingers. “You hardly ever get mad at me when I touch your butt anymore. I can use your laptop to access police files-”

“You’re not allowed to do that. You haven’t been doing that, have you?”

“...No.”

Carlton squinted at him suspiciously.

“What I’m saying is that this is a win-win relationship,” Shawn said. “We both come out on top! Well, I top most of the time, but you know what I mean.”

“Okay, I see how this relationship benefits you,” Carlton said. “But you eat all my food and keep me up all night with your relentless grappling. Where are my perks?”

“You have to be joking. What about that thing I did for you last night?” Sawn said.

Lassiter considered. “That’s one thing.”

Shawn twisted around to sit in Carlton’s lap, wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him softly.

“How about that?” he said. He kissed Carlton again. “That’s at least three things.”

Carlton couldn’t fight off a smile. “It’s hard to argue with your logic.”

“If it helps, I can give you another reason to keep me around,” Shawn murmured, one hand sliding up Carlton’s shirt.

Shawn pulled him into another kiss, this one deep and lingering. His arm hooked around Carlton’s neck, fingers tangling in his thick hair. His other hand continued to slide Carlton’s body to tweak a nipple.

Carlton gasped. He could feel the curve of Shawn’s smirk against his lips.

But when they broke the kiss, Shawn looked preoccupied.

“What’s wrong?” Carlton asked.

Shawn hesitated. “Does it bother you that I don’t do that stuff you like? The sodom-mastication stuff?”

Carlton frowned. “Sadomasochism?”

“I’ve heard it both ways. But-” Shawn added before Carlton could get annoyed. “I admit that you would know better than me.”

“I don’t need it,” Carlton said. “Not all the time.”

“It’s weird. For some reason it’s super easy to humiliate you in the workplace, but when it’s sexytimes, I just can’t do it.”

“It’s fine,” Carlton assured him again. “And look. If I want to be degraded, there’s absolutely nothing more humiliating than getting fucked silly by Shawn goddamn Spencer every other night.”

“A more insecure man would be offended by that, Lassie, but I’m not. Because I know that you love me.”

Shawn kissed him again, and Carlton realized he couldn’t deny it.


End file.
